Though Kyra’s landlord might not like that plan. Last year, Kyra had let Idalee and Lettie stay with her during a blizzard. When Laman discovered them, he’d pulled Kyra aside and made it clear that he had no intentions of turning The Drunken Dog into an orphanage. Well, Laman didn’t need to know, and Bella wouldn’t say anything.

Idalee nodded. “Come on, Lettie, you’re going home with Kyra.” She coaxed her sister out of the blankets and tied a small gray cloak around her neck. Lettie coughed but didn’t complain. The little girl whispered a question as she took Kyra’s hand.

“What?” Kyra asked. Lettie always spoke in a barely audible tone. Kyra leaned closer and laughed.

“Well, I don’t know if there’s any more stew, but I’m sure Bella will have something equally tasty tonight.”

As Idalee had predicted, Kyra and Lettie’s walk back to The Drunken Dog took quite a while. The tavern was already filling with a lively after-dinner crowd when they returned. Brendel had set up in his favorite corner and was tuning his lute in front of a brightly colored painting of dragons and dryads. Kyra remembered that he was going to sing “Lady Evelyne” tonight.

“Lettie, do you want to hear the talesinger?”

Kyra guided Lettie to a table, then ducked into the kitchen to fetch some food. Lettie’s eyes opened wide at the chicken pie Kyra brought out.

“Don’t burn your tongue,” Kyra said. Lettie gripped her spoon with an eagerness that made Kyra suspect her warning was useless. As they both dug in, Brendel strummed a few chords and cleared his throat.

“Good evening, good gentlemen and ladies.” There were some good-natured heckles from the audience, which the young talesinger acknowledged with a charming grin. “I’ve always loved the tale of noble Lady Evelyne, and I know many of you do as well. Tonight, I am honored to play for you the first act, which I just finished penning”—he made a show of counting on his fingers—“seven hours ago.”

As the laughter died down, Brendel launched straight into the opening chords. He sang of the felbeast—the giant bear-creature that ravaged the countryside long ago. Kyra glanced nervously at Lettie during one of Brendel’s more convincing growls, but the child, fascinated by Brendel’s quick-moving fingers, seemed unfazed. Then the talesinger switched to a softer melody. In a high falsetto, he sang the part of Lady Evelyne. She wept for her people and wondered if the carnage could be stopped. The noble lady gathered her courage, bid good-bye to her family and betrothed, and entered the forest to confront the felbeast.

“That’s how we know the ballad in’t true,” said a familiar voice at Kyra’s shoulder. “A real fatpurse would have sacrificed a servant girl instead.”

Kyra turned her head.